Honestly
by Spitfire47
Summary: An opinion piece about the Saw Series.


A/N: _A report for Drama about the Saw Series in story format as it is Drama class and you are expected to be creative with your work. Flames are permitted if need be. Spitfire47_

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><p>My mind was racing after what had happened to me about a few minutes ago, fifteen if you want to be exact. I kept looking over my shoulder waiting for some crazy person (whoever had done this) to come up from behind, knock me unconscious and throw me into another torturous trap that I would have to escape from in thirty minutes time. Or better yet slit my throat and be done with it. But none of those things happened. My bloodied hand went for the slick wall and my legs wobbled with pain as I continued down the long narrow hallway. The message was to go to head down the hallway and keep going until I found door with a red X. There were no doors on either side of the hallway so I guessed that I just had to keep on walking until the end. Oh right, the reason as to why I am here. Alright then, I am a hacker. Seventeen years old and fresh out of high school. Now your probably wondering why I am here...but more importantly what is here?<p>

Here is what seems to be an abandoned warehouse or factory of some sort. Here is waking up to find yourself hanging twenty feet in the air by your ankles from thick metal cuffs linked to a long chain. Here is where _he _is. I had read about him, listened about him, and even one creepy evening dreamt about him.

Hacker? Yes, but only to those crappy surveillance cameras and hidden cameras in the school as well as all the school computers. I had actually installed a program that allowed students to go onto websites undetected. It was installed in practically every computer in the school except of course the office computers. I had uploaded a security system that actually worked for the students and students only. As well as prove to the parents during Parent's Night that there were hidden cameras in the school after finding six of those little bastards with nothing but a toilet paper tube and a three dollar LED light in the cafeteria.

I continued down the hallway only taking a five minute break to rest my legs. They throbbed with the pain that they were in, the bleeding from my wrist had slowed down but didn't stop and didn't look like it would stop anytime soon. Great, I was going to die of blood loss. I continued to walk only about a few centimetres until my ankle rolled to the left and I collapsed against the wall in total exhaustion. This was nuts! This was insane! But above all - this was hell. Whoever had done this whether it be the man himself or an accomplice obviously succeeded in whatever torture they wanted me to be in. This was no life lesson. I sunk to the ground and sat there with my knees drawn to my chest, my breaths were raspy and uneven and my hand was now literally shaking on it's own. I looked down at it to see that every joint in my hand was still dislocated or broken. My other hand had a long deep cut straight across from the instrument I had to use to dislocate my fingers.

That was the original message. To break dislocate my fingers and once that was over and done with, the cuffs that encircled my ankles would open and I would be released from my hellish prison. What happened was that I panicked once the cuffs opened, in front of me there was a bar that I was suppose to grab with my good hand to help myself get down without crash landing. Only thing was that I had slit my own wrist accidentally, so when I grabbed the bar, blood had squirted in my eye and temporarily blinded me. In a panic I let go and l landed awkwardly breaking my own hand.

I can't tell you the pain I was in. My whole body went numb for what seemed like forever but was really only about five minutes before I let out this unearthly scream. The scream was sharp at first but then descended into nothing but noises as if someone was strangling an animal.

I got to my feet and my legs were less wobbly but my hand still shook with pain. I continued down the dimly lit hallway and when I say dimly lit I really mean it. There were possibly only about four lights in the hallway, four small lights that were like beckons in the night. I continued until I could feel a cool chill rush through my body and I shivered which didn't really help my pain. As I moved closer to my destination another light flickered on and I saw only a few centimetres in front of me was the door with the X on it. The door was grungy, and the handle was frail. I grasped it with my only good hand and pulled it open. I clenched my teeth as pain shot up my arm into my brain. I ignored it and pulled the door as far open as it would go. A cool breeze rushed at me but this time I didn't shiver. I sort of expected a dramatic effect once I had opened the door – and my prediction was right.

The room was small. Nothing special to it, no painted walls, no posters nothing to make it seem more lively although this wouldn't be the place to have something lively going on. There was a chair, just a plain wooden armed chair like you see in those furniture shops. And in front of the chair was a table, a small rectangular table that stood sturdy on all fours. On the table was a small pile of folders and a television. The television had a clear picture and that picture was me. I raised my hand and the television projected the same movement. I looked around but saw nothing. Hidden camera no doubt, I wondered how many there were in the whole building.

I stepped into the room and the door closed behind me with a loud slam. I continued to move towards the chair and the table but then felt another presence in the room. I turned and sure enough there was an old man behind me. He was dressed in a black suit and the expression on his face was depressing as if he was mourning someone who had died.

"Congratulations," the man said, his voice was hollow yet filled with demand.

I remained silent.

"It isn't everyday that I get to see someone survive a trap such as that."

"What do you want?" I ask almost regretting I even said anything afterwards. The man stepped forward so that the light could shine on his weathered face.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked quietly. "Besides a dying man?"

I nodded. "Jigsaw."

The man made a face. "I prefer John."

I didn't reply as John aka Jigsaw came closer to me.

"You are quite intelligent," John said.

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or a concern," I answered bitterly.

"I'm sure you have learned your lesson correct?"

I looked at the ground then at my hand and then the other. I looked back at the man who I assumed was the one who had knocked me out and placed me in there.

"No."

John raised his eyebrow. "No?"

"I mean yes, but…" I hesitated. There was something that I wasn't quite sure about. Something that I knew was touchy but wasn't to sure on whether to tell him or not. "There is something I'm not quite sure about."

"And that would be?"

"Well…" I rubbed the back of my neck with my good hand, I could feel the blood drag across and I immediately put my hand down. "What about yourself."

John straightened. "What about me?"

"Your obsessed."

John's expression (which I wasn't really sure of) didn't change, but that didn't stop me from explaining.

"But I'm not, okay so yes I'm a hacker but I don't do it all the time," I sighed trying to think of a way to word what I was trying to say to him. John just kept looking at me waiting for my explanation. "Okay here it is. I've read all about you, I've listened to practically every conversation with survivors who had being through and survived your 'games'. They are all drug users, abusive people, corrupted bastards and such yeah – obsessed. But it seems that you too are obsessed. You are obsessed with torturing people into learning what is right and what is wrong. That their addiction or obsession is wrong and what your almost saying is that _your _way and _your _way only is the way to be 'cured' of their obsession."

"I am doing justice," John said quietly although I caught some anger in his voice.

"If justice is suspending someone twenty feet in the air and forcing them to dislocate their fingers in thirty minutes time before they are stuck left dangling there forever."

I expected John to attack me whether it be verbal or physically. I expected him to blow up in my face and call me a crook, a criminal a person who is obsessed. I know I should have shut up right there and then but I was on a roll.

"You have people who are behind you, people who have succeeded in your games and help you pick out the people. You were and still are obsessed aren't you? You are obsessed with finding the right person to take over your so called legacy and obsessed with bringing your own so called justice to people who have their own obsessions." I sighed again. "What I'm getting at _John_ is that if you bring 'justice' to people who are obsessed with their problems or faults whatever you'd like to call it. Shouldn't you bring justice to _yourself?"_

I waited for an answer. I waited for John to do something. Since I had started my so called speech he had just stood there motionless as if carved from stone.

"I do what I can to help people."

"But that's what you don't understand! The only reason people say that they give up on their obsession is because they physically can't do it anymore! Mentally they are probably jonesing for line of cocaine, or another break in. But if you have them in a trap that they have to cut off their own nose, or cut off a few fingers. Then they are physically unable to do whatever obsession they have but that means that they aren't mentally over it."

John continued to just stand there. I wasn't sure if he was paying attention, conjuring up a smart ass come back or if I was literally making a point. Cause if I was making a point, then hell I want this shit recorded! For what seemed like the longest pause in the history of pauses John finally spoke.

"It is right."

"Other people think that it is wrong," I stated. "But you possibly don't care because you still think that you're idea of justice is right – right?"

John didn't reply. But I had nothing else to say to the man standing before me. Everything I wanted to say was out on the table and I was ready to hear what he was going to say.

"I think," I said. "That what you are trying to do is physically attempt to stop them from their obsessions, but it takes more than that John it takes mentality as well."

"They have their experience," John added in quickly.

"Their experience of being tortured."

"For their obsession."

"But all they feel is pain, you don't know whether they feel any remorse for their doings."

"They are remorseful."

"But that because they just want to go home, they want the experience to be over and done with. They don't want to stick around."

"Your still here."

I nodded. "I am but that isn't the point. Their choice is their choice and this is mine. To confront the man who had killed and wounded so many people but can't see that he himself is like them in so many ways."

John took a step forward but I didn't move from where I stood. If he wanted to kill me then so be it, get it over with!

"The only reason they say that they have being changed by you is because they know that you're still watching them. You're still watching to see if they actually have changed. But inside they could still mentally want to do their obsession so badly. You on the other hand will have people, followers behind you. People who follow you blindly believing that you are righteous, that your type of justice is correct."

I waited for his reply, the reply that will either make or break me.

"You do not like my justice?" John asked quietly.

"Justice should be done without causing anymore infliction or harm to the current problem already. Of course that isn't always the case in a way but what you're doing is not the best justice in the world."

"So what are you saying?" John asked still emotionless and honestly it was getting boring just to see him standing there with no expression on his face and doing practically nothing. I wasn't even sure if he was listening to what I was saying.

"Cut the crap."


End file.
